MISANTHROPIC | pjm. [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixteen

Alcohol was an addictive thing. 

The smell of liquor grew familiar to me by now; and I stared at the empty bottles in front of me. I couldn't help but clench my fists in anger and frustration. I didn't know what to do anymore - why was I growing so weak? I wanted to run away from it all. 

My tolerance in alcohol was shocking, compared to what other things I was capable of. One drink already got me tipsy, and how many bottles have I finished this night? I didn't even know. And I felt like I was out of my mind. 

When I found my hand reaching out for another shot, I managed to stop myself. My mind wandered on the whole reason why I was here, that name I has to wipe out, but now.. I wanted him to to be safe: Park Jimin. 

I was so confused and frustrated at the same time. I stood up from the couch, and walking was suddenly a hard thing. I brought myself to take each step carefully, to not make myself seem so drunk. I didn't bother taking a subway. 

I never thought I would start drinking alcohol again. Times wherein I did, things always ended bad. And though I shouldn't of have, I remember everything I did in the morning. Was I completely aware of what I did when I was drunk.. I'd never know. 

All I wanted was to hide. The stigma of murdering, and not getting charged for it.. people always think I was this good girl. I wanted to turn away from everything.. I wanted to go back to the start, at least.. 

But I can't do any of those anymore. 

I'm too late. 

Once I got myself a cab, the driver didn't seem to be too bothered when he noticed me drunk. He was probably used to it. I felt my eyes droop along the way, but I managed to stay awake by admiring the lights we quickly passed by. 

I paid him the exact amount of money, and I stumbled into an ever so familiar street. I pulled out a shogi piece, staring at it for a short while. Though I've always knew the truth of reality, this truth.. the name written on the piece, it was a truth I always turned back from. 

A handful of people only knew about it- my parents. My mentor. Aida. 

I was Japanese. 

But having an identity crisis was more complicated than I thought it would be. Yes. I was Japanese. Yet.. when I only got to know myself when I turned back from being who I really was.. that got me thinking. 

Who am I? 

Is the person I am now, that I thought would make me happy, the one that started everything, the person that needs face all her crimes, and the girl that was just a mask all this time, Chang Sumire...

Something I should give up on? 

When it was the only thing that hid me from what I had to face? 

I felt my grip tighten around the piece as I fastened my pace. 

I had to tell him. 

I felt my feet take me inside the building. Of course they wouldn't let me go inside - I didn't live here. And what was a student that didn't even live in the apartment be doing here at 12AM? 

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but where would you be going?" a woman stopped me from going to the elevator. I smirked and took a distance from her. 

I stated the room number, and she looked at me in confusion, "Do they know that you will be coming, this late? And most likely, they'd be asleep by now, Ma'am." 

"I don't care," I replied, and my voice was hoarse. "They wouldn't, too." 

"I'm sorry, but can you wait, so we can give them a call?" I didn't like being told what to do- but to atleast make me seem decent, I waited by the couch. When I was drunk, I was glad I wasn't wild. I was probably much more disobedient when I was sober.